


soft hands can teach too

by Sleeply



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety Disorder, Anxious Sokka (Avatar), Bisexual Sokka (Avatar), Blind Character, Chronic Pain, College, Deaf Zuko (Avatar), Depersonalization, Disability, Fluff and Angst, Gay Zuko (Avatar), Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Insecurity, Iroh Adopts Zuko (Avatar), Iroh is a Good Uncle (Avatar), M/M, Nonbinary Character, Ozai (Avatar) is an Asshole, Partially Blind Zuko (Avatar), Partially Deaf Zuko (Avatar), Pining, Protective Sokka (Avatar), Self-Indulgent, Slow Burn, Zuko (Avatar) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, but he's also good at masking, but he's got the spirit, dancing around feelings, it's toph, sokka is confused, zuko has no idea who he is or what he likes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:06:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29889843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sleeply/pseuds/Sleeply
Summary: Zuko closes his eyes while Sokka slowly runs his hands up and down his back. An unknown emotion fills him. He doubts Sokka knows that this is the first time someone has taught him love with the touch of their hands.orZuko struggles with hearing loss and finally finds the courage to reach out to his school for a note-taker. Out of work, Sokka turns to the school for any openings. Sokka learns more about how living with a disability can be, while Zuko learns about the simple charms of life. Neither of them could have expected to find something more in this simple arrangement.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 120





	1. extending a hand (for help)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko does stuff.

Zuko feels a nervous burn coarse through his arm as he reaches for the door handle to the Student Resource Center. He’d sent an email days ago to request support for his classes. He had relinquished a massively intimate part of himself. Doing that had taken a sort of courage Zuko doesn’t think he has, but he needed to do it.

Asking for help was never something that came easily to him, years spent being berated for his weaknesses and failures took their toll. The idea to reach out to the school had been Uncle’s idea. Zuko still has a hard time wrapping his head around the simple fact that Uncle only sees the best in him and wants him to succeed. Zuko’s healing was far from done, but his relationship with Uncle had only improved over the years, as they both began to understand each other better as adults.

Zuko grips his paperwork in his hands anxiously as he enters the building. He was asked to bring certain documents to his appointment with information on his disability so he could receive the proper support. A person was sitting at a desk fairly close to the front door, with a sign over their head that reads ‘Student Disability Resources’.

“How can I help you?” the person asks nicely.

“I’m- uh here for an appointment with Mrs. Glass,” Zuko says, trying to balance the quiver in his voice. He was thankful she spoke clearly.

“Alright, what’s your name, and what time is your appointment?”

“Zuko Sozin, and 10:30.”

“Okay, Zuko. Mrs. Glass will be coming to greet you soon.”

Zuko tries his best to suppress the shutter that moves through him from a stranger using his name so easily.

“Thank you,” he says before finding a chair nearby.

Zuko doesn’t wait long before a door cracks open and a woman slowly approaches him. He hastily stands up.

‘You must be Zuko, follow me.’ she signs. Zuko is pleasantly surprised she knows sign language.

Once she settles into her office, she gestures at Zuko who was still standing in the doorway to sit down. He closes the door behind him slowly and slides into a seat.

The appointment goes well. Mrs. Glass told Zuko it was almost like a formality, and they would set him up with someone who fits his schedule once they looked over his paperwork. Zuko feels the anxiety leave him as soon as he steps out of the center. He's proud of himself for tackling that.

He has some time to kill before his next class, so Zuko makes his way to the library to grab a much-needed cup of coffee and a quiet nook to study. It isn’t a far walk, his college campus isn’t big, which was one of the main draws for him when he decided to pick this particular school. It’s made up of mostly flat concrete and a beautiful forest wrapping the east side behind the dining hall. He’s never gone to explore the forest, but he knew it was a popular spot for kids to hang out. There’s a possibility he’s never gone because he knew that.  
Zuko spends most of his free time between classes in the library studying. School is tough for Zuko, it feels as though he has to work twice as hard to get half as far, and he isn’t quite sure if those insecurities were that of his own accord or a remnant of being constantly compared to his far more competent sister. She had always taken to everything much easier than he ever did.

Zuko can’t help the relief that fills him at the sight of a fairly empty library, and no line at the small coffee shop in the far corner. He nervously thumbs the cash in his pocket as he walks up to the stand, but nobody comes to greet him immediately. He can hear some loud voices carry from the back, and he begins to nervously scan the menu even though he already knows what he wants. After a while, the raised voices stop, and a boy opens the door leading to what Zuko assumes is a storage room. The boy has long brown hair tied up in a topknot, save for his shaved sides. He was wearing a sun visor to block the escaping hair. His eyes shift to Zuko as he pulls off his apron. Zuko notes a scattering of tattoos on his arms.

“Hey,” he starts, a smile stretching across his face that doesn’t quite reach his deep blue eyes. “I… help you... but someone will… soon,” he finishes. The boy turns to pick a bag off a hook hanging near the door to the backroom and makes his way to the split in the counter to leave.

Zuko realizes he’d been staring. The guy is cute. He only now realizes he hadn’t understood much of what he’d said.

“I- uh, right. Thank you,” Zuko hopes he hadn’t said it too loud. The boy shoots him one last smile and leaves Zuko to himself, eyes following the boy walk away. He wonders what the yelling was about, and why that boy had looked so defeated as he left.

Zuko doesn't turn around for a moment, lost in his thoughts. When he does, his eyes meet Jet's annoyed expression.

"I would have tried to get your attention but," he points at his ear in a jerky fashion. His words were spoken too slowly, and his lips moved in an exaggerated, almost mocking manner. His short hair is spiked up, probably with gel, and he's wearing the same visor and apron as the boy who had left.

Zuko takes a deep breath and lets its calming energy spread through his body, just like Uncle had taught him. "Hi Jet," he says quietly enough he can barely hear himself. "A medium matcha latte please."

"Three seventy-five," Jet says simply.

Zuko hands him a five and tells him to keep it, wanting to keep their interaction to a minimum. He generally didn't get food or drinks on campus, and he preferred tea to coffee, but Zuko was feeling particularly burnt out. Zuko stands nearby to wait for his drink, and he hears Jet start to say something as the automatic coffee grinder turns on. When he hands Zuko his drink, he has a smirk on his face, and Zuko is partially thankful he hadn't heard what Jet said to him. Zuko grabs his drinks and says a quick thank you before walking off to find a corner of the library to study in.

Once Zuko settles at a table, he pulls out all of his notes and runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. He always prided himself on his ability to take neat and detailed notes. Being in college had proven to be a bit more difficult than high school, considering the fast-paced nature of classes and his inability to consistently get a seat at the front. There was more subject to be learned in each class, and professors sped through points before Zuko could process and write down information.

Suddenly it's 5:30 pm, and Zuko finds himself already walking to class. He isn’t sure what to call it when he loses himself in his head and comes back to find himself functioning as if he were on autopilot. It's one of those things he's never voiced to anyone, not even his therapist, even though he knows he should. After discovering, constant pain isn't a normal thing, he's able to function much better knowing he has chronic pain. It's the same deal, he doesn't know what's normal and what's not. He's always been out of tune with his needs, and he's never sure what's worth speaking up about.

Zuko spends yet another class straining to hear, struggling to keep up, and leaving the lecture hall feeling defeated with incomplete notes. He toys with the idea of going back to the library, but he decides to go home, feeling particularly done with the day. He walks to the bus stop and sits down, having memorized the schedule and expecting the bus to come in about thirty minutes. He pulls out a book he'd snagged at the library weeks back, The Four Agreements by Don Miguel Ruiz. Zuko spends a lot of time thinking about forgiveness, and what it means. Zuko likes Ruiz's take on forgiveness more than most, the focus being on detaching yourself from pain done to you.

The bus rolls up, and Zuko pulls his bus pass out of his pocket, quickly sliding it in the machine and picking the closest empty spot. He puts his book away and resigns himself to looking out the window. He's missed his stop in the past, and he's had to learn to pay attention to the landscape outside. Uncle's shop isn't far from school, and Zuko is soon pulling the cord hanging across the window to request a stop.

"Thank you," Zuko says to the driver as he steps off the bus.

He finds Uncle at the counter, chatting with a young woman when he walks into the shop. Uncle signs a quick hello to Zuko. Uncle insisted on them both learning sign language after the hearing started to degrade in his non-damaged ear. The doctors had told him sometimes hearing goes out in the other ear after one is damaged. Zuko was embarrassed at first and had told Uncle he could understand fine as long as he spoke slowly, but now he was secretly thankful Uncle convinced him to learn.

'I'm going upstairs,' Zuko signs back. 'Unless you need help,' he adds on.

'Kind offer, but I will be closing soon,' Uncle signs and smiles at the woman he was previously speaking to, then turns around to make her drink.

Zuko is silently glad Uncle let him retreat to the upstairs. He is always willing to help out in the shop, but all he really wants to do is tuck into bed for the rest of the evening.

Zuko wakes up at 10 am, not realizing he'd fallen asleep in the first place. He made sure to take only classes that start in the afternoon because he has trouble sleeping most nights.

Zuko stays in bed longer than he knows he should, but his pain is often worse in the mornings. He hoists himself out of bed and makes his way to the bathroom down the short hall. It takes him ten minutes to convince himself to get in the shower, and another ten to get out of the spray once he's done washing up. Towel wrapped around his waist, he brushes his teeth quicker than he should and streaks back to his room. After haphazardly toweling his short hair dry, Zuko approaches his closet. He wants nothing more than to put on a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt but he resolves to look a little more presentable. He pulls on a black turtleneck and layers it with a deep maroon round neck t-shirt, tucked into a pair of frayed, baggy black jeans he'd cut off just above his ankles so his typical choice of an ankle-high platform boot would fit the pants. He slips on a few rings to finish the look, already familiarly fiddling with them. Zuko generally tries not to look at himself in the mirror, so it's not too different from any other day when he doesn't bother to look.

Uncle is sitting in the seat facing the entrance to the kitchen when Zuko finally makes his way to get breakfast There's a pot of tea sitting on the small dining room table.

'Good morning, nephew,' Uncle signs pleasantly.

'Good morning, Uncle. I had my appointment yesterday at the Student Resource Center’' Zuko signs to him.

'That is good, nephew, I am glad you got your foot in the door,' Uncle seems genuinely pleased with this victory.

Zuko grabs an orange off the counter, a teacup out of the cabinet, and sits down across from Uncle. He pours himself some tea and peels his orange while he waits for it to cool. They sit in a comfortable silence as Uncle reads a newspaper and Zuko eats his orange. He knocks back his still-warm tea, takes his cup to the sink, and throws away his orange peels. Zuko goes back to his room to grab his bag and stops right before reaching the door. He glares at his cane leaning in the corner by the door, and the cane seems to glare right back. He knows Iroh put it there. He feels his pain isn't so bad he’d need it. 

"Bye, Uncle!" Zuko yells before leaving the apartment.

The bus ride to school was uneventful, and he made his way to class with time to spare. Zuko drifts from class to class, eventually landing himself at the library where he does homework until his next class.

By the end of the day, part of Zuko was wishing he'd grabbed his cane. He has more classes on Wednesdays than on other days. It's a lot of walking, and he curses his uncle for knowing better than he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying not to be too critical of my work because I haven't tried writing anything in years. I've read so many lovely stories on here, and I'd really like to start sharing my ideas. I struggle with tenses in my writing, so I hope it's not too hard to read. I welcome suggestions and criticism.  
> I think I read somewhere that when eyesight goes in one eye, it often goes in the other, so I kinda just applied that to hearing loss to be a semi-believable canon way to make Zuko lose his hearing in both ears.  
> If you can't tell already, this fic will be completely self-indulgent and I absolutely am projecting myself onto Zuko.  
> Originally, I had set the story up that Zuko had personally made a posting to find a note-taker, but thanks to a comment I received, I've decided to be more accurate to attending college with a disability and I had Zuko go to Student Resources instead.  
> Thanks for reading!


	2. extending a hand (to help)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sokka does stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you were a first responder to the previous chapter, I think it's worth noting I made a little change to the story.  
> Thanks to a comment I received, I've decided to be more accurate to the experience of attending college with a disability and I had Zuko go to Student Resources instead of making his own posting. This change doesn't affect anything you've read so far, so re-reading won't be entirely necessary. If you do decide to re-read, it's worth knowing a majority of the change happens at the beginning of the chapter. On top of that, I've made some other minor changes thanks to my beta reader, [ obsidiansky ](/users/obsidiansky/) who also beta'd this chapter!
> 
> Thank you for all the support, and enjoy!

Sokka likes his job just fine. It’s usually not busy in the library, and he enjoys the quiet. Free coffee was also a pretty good bonus. The only thing Sokka struggles with within the workplace is his co-worker, Jet. He and Jet don’t get along, this much was clear from the moment Sokka was hired. Jet is rude to customers and spends more time sitting on his phone than making drinks. Sokka finds himself picking up the slack most shifts he works with Jet and they end up having a lot of arguments over insignificant- seeming things.

“Hey Sokka, you didn’t refill the ice chest,” Jet says with a look on his face that says he’s not planning on doing it himself. 

"Why don't you ever do anything yourself!" Sokka found himself raising his voice. He's not sure why he’s picking a fight, he's put up with far more from Jet in the past. Maybe it's because he had another dream about forgetting his mother's face. Maybe it's because Katara laughed when he told her he was flunking his intro to art class. 

Nevertheless, Jet doesn't look bothered. 

"I never do anything? I'm the one who trained you," Jet cooly fires back. 

"So what? Any time I work with you I’m the one doing everything, and I'm tired of being pushed around by you!"

"I don't push you around, you loser! You're just too eager to help the customers before I can!" 

"That's because you suck with customers! You know we have other responsibilities too, right?" Sokka starts to grow tired of fighting with him, wishing he could just go home. 

"I don't suck with the customers!" Jet protests, but he doesn't say anything else. 

"I think I'm gonna quit, Jet. Good luck with the rest of the shift." 

Sokka did feel kind of bad for leaving Jet hanging, but there's only an hour left of their shift anyways. Sokka leaves the storage room and starts pulling off his apron. He's surprised to see someone waiting to order. It’s usually dead until lunch.  
"Hey," Sokka says, leveling his gaze with a smile. "I can't help you right now, but someone will be able to soon," Sokka finishes, before turning to grab his bag from its usual hook by the door and walking away from that place for the last time. He doesn’t pay attention to the person’s reply.

Sokka wants to be confident with his choice to quit, but he can feel the regret sinking into him the further he walks away. 

Sokka elects to skip his Intro to Art class, even though that won’t help the fact he’s already doing poorly. He struggles with art, he finds he’s not creative enough to make anything he can be proud of. He enjoys written arts like poetry, and he likes to draw architecture plans, but he hasn’t been able to apply either of those to his art class thus far. 

Sokka walks through campus, heading to the gym, where the pool is. He often finds himself in the water to take his mind off things. Sokka sits in front of the locker he’d rented in the changing room by the pool and sends a quick text to his sister.

Sokka: i quit my job at the coffee place in the library, got any ideas?

He puts his phone in his locker instead of waiting for a reply and heads to the back door of the changing room, where it’s connected to the pool. Sokka is thankful for an indoor pool, it means he can swim year-round. 

Sokka scans the pool for an open lane, finding one farthest from the door. He pulls his wolf tail out of its knot and reties it as low as he can, pulls on his swim cap and goggles, and dives into the pool without a splash. 

Sokka starts his swim with a slow 1000 freestyle warm-up. He loses himself in the laps, and he’s not positive how many he swims. Sokka hates swimming anything other than freestyle in public, he feels a bit silly. After all, most people stick to freestyle for their workouts. His favorite stroke is butterfly, though. Unlike a stroke like breaststroke, where the movement is stiff and unnatural, butterfly is flowing and free. While it’s one of the more difficult strokes, Sokka loves the feeling of swimming it. He sneaks in a few laps of butterfly before switching back to freestyle. Climbing out of the pool, Sokka feels significantly more relaxed than when he first jumped in. 

Sokka quickly towels off and makes his way back to the locker room. Sitting on the bench in front of his locker, Sokka looks through his phone. He has three texts from his sister and one from Toph, asking Sokka to describe a picture she found on Twitter.

Katara: I have a few ideas.  
Katara: You could clean your room, for starters.

Katara: So what, you finally had enough of Jet?

Sokka will probably never get tired of his sister’s motherly tendencies and wit. It’s something they rarely talk about, how Katara stepped up after their mom passed away.

Sokka: aaanyways, you got any ideas for a new job?

Katara: Check with Student Resources, they offer a lot of jobs.

Sokka: sure, thanks katara

He then replies to Toph, doing his best to explain an image of a cow on a beach with the caption ‘Pain’.

Sokka passes on rinsing off after his swim, deciding he should go to the resource center before heading home. He quickly redresses and fixes his hair back to its usual topknot. After lacing up his sneakers, Sokka grabs his bag out of his locker, slings it over his shoulder, and leaves the locker room. Sokka scales down the hill near the gym to take the path through the forest to the Student Resource Center. The forest near the campus is one of his favorite things about the school. He likes to meet groups of people who hang out here. Some people use the forest as a place to practice their arts, be it painting or writing. Sometimes he sees people passing hacky sacks around or doing hula hoop tricks. It’s a serene environment, save for the music people sometimes play. There are people from all walks of life who congregate here, and it’s something Sokka enjoys about the school. There’s a place for everyone. 

When Sokka enters the Student Resource Center, he notes several desks placed around the room. The one closest to the door has a sign overhead the person at the desk that reads ‘Student Disability Resources’ which is something Sokka didn’t even know the school offered. He makes his way past the disability resources to the desk for general resources. The guy sitting there looks up as Sokka approaches. 

“Do you guys offer jobs on campus?” Sokka asks him.

He nods and hands Sokka a piece of paper with different job openings on it. 

“The jobs are generally on a first come first serve basis, and the openings go quick, so come tomorrow with a resume and a few of your top picks. I can schedule an appointment with our job advisor tomorrow if you’d like,” he tells Sokka.

“That’d be great man, thanks! I’m free tomorrow any time after 11 am.”

“We have an open time for 11 on the dot, should I go ahead and put you down?”

Sokka’s last class ends at 11, but he can probably leave early or make a beeline afterward. 

“Yeah, that sounds good, my name is Sokka Unalaq. Spelled with an S and an okka. Oh, and the last name is U-n-a-l-a-q,” he hopes the guy finds some humor in the way he spells it out.

The guys’ expression doesn’t change, but he’s typing what Sokka assumes is his name on the computer and looks back up at him. “You’re all set, have a good one.”

“Thanks,” Sokka says with a smile and stuffs the paper he was given into his backpack.

Sokka walks away from the desk, feeling good about a soon-to-be job change. He should probably call his advisor from the coffee shop and quit officially. 

It’s gotten pretty late, so Sokka decides he should probably head home. He and Katara decided to get a place together when they started college, both of them wanting a little more freedom. Katara volunteers at an animal hospital in her free time, her schedule already filled up with classes and work.

On his way to the parking lot, he spots Aang and Toph sitting in the quad reading. Aang catches Sokka from across the quad, his eyes lighting up.

“Hi, Sokka!” Aang says excitedly, closing his book and setting it aside.

“Hey Aang, hey Toph, how’s it going?” Sokka smiles at him.

Toph lifts their hand from the book and waves in the direction Sokka’s voice came from.

“We’re good. Just getting our reading done for our next class,” Aang lifts his copy of Brave New World by Aldous Huxley. “Are you heading home?”

“Yeah, I’ve gotta do some homework and pick out a job,” Sokka says, deflating a bit at all the work he has.

“You not working at the coffee place anymore? Dang, I loved the free coffee!” Toph laughs.

Sokka must have never mentioned what a pain his co-worker had been to him. “Yeah, I checked with the school today for some more on-campus jobs, I’ve got an interview tomorrow.”

“We won’t keep you, then. Sounds like you’ve got some work to do. Say hi to Katara for me,” Aang finishes with a blush.

“See you guys, good luck with the reading.”

Sokka walks away from them, feeling bad at how briefly he’d stuck around, but he’s glad Aang seemed understanding. Once he reaches the parking lot, Sokka scans for his car, trying to remember where he had parked. He spots his light blue beat-up Jeep Wrangler and makes his way over, rummaging in his bag for his keys. Once his hand locks around a cool metal, he pulls his keys out and unlocks the car. Tossing his bag in the passenger seat, Sokka plugs his phone into the aux and scrolls through his music before landing on Kids by The Frights. It’s a song he found recently, and enjoys the contradicting lyrics “I miss my mom” and “I hate my mom” which Sokka thinks can coexist. He sticks his keys in the ignition and clicks his volume up to 75% before whipping out of the school parking lot. Sokka and Katara weren’t able to find a place close to the school, so it’s a 25-minute drive to the neighboring city. Sokka pulls into their apartment’s designated parking space, and turns his car off, killing his music. 

When he gets into their apartment, the first thing Sokka does is make a snack. He scarfs down his snack and heads to his room, flopping on his bed and kicking his shoes off. He remembers the paper in his backpack with all the job listings on it and pulls it out. He smooths the crinkles out and scans down the list. They’re all typical jobs you’d expect for a college campus. Dining hall line cook, dishwasher, paper filer, mail sorter/receptionist. Sokka has experience in food service, so he’d tick that off as one of his choices. He was told to pick a few, so he scanned down the list more, his eyes catching on an interesting job. A note-taker for a hard-of-hearing student. It doesn’t seem like a bad gig, he’s pretty good at taking notes. It’s something he could see himself doing. He wouldn’t have to worry about lazy coworkers either. He ticks that off as another choice along with mailing reception. 

Sokka buckles down to get some homework done and to update his resume a bit. After working on an architecture assignment for a couple of hours, Sokka receives a text from his sister needing a ride from the animal hospital. He jumps off his bed, slips his shoes back on, and heads to his car. When he pulls up to the vet, Katara is standing on the curb looking at her phone. He gives his horn a quick tap to get her attention. Katara looks up, seeming a bit perturbed. 

“I hate it when you don’t respond to my texts,” Katara says when she opens the door. “I was about to start walking,” she finishes.

“Sorry about that, I thought I made good time,” Sokka says, changing the song on his phone.

“Still, I want to have some sort of confirmation.”

“Right, I’ll do that next time.” He can understand her wanting a reply from him.

“Thanks for picking me up,” Katara says, facing the window.

They rode in silence for the rest of the way home.

When they got home, Katara went directly to her room and dropped her bag on the floor, but didn’t close the door.

“What do you want to make for dinner?” She asks him from the doorway.

“What do we have?” Sokka asks

“I’ll figure something out,” Katara says, walking back to the kitchen.

Katara makes amazing comfort food. It reminds him a lot of their mother’s cooking. After they eat, Sokka clears the table and tosses the dishes in the sink, deciding to wash them later.

“Thanks for dinner, Katara, I’ll see you in the morning,” Sokka says before retreating to his room for the night.

He stacks all his papers and shoves them into a blue folder. He throws on the worn, thigh-length tee-shirt he typically sleeps in and goes to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He’s looking forward to getting a good night of rest before his 9 am calculus class.

At 8 am, Sokka’s alarm goes off. He slams the snooze button on his phone and flips over. Unfortunately, 9 minutes pass quickly, and he has to get up. Sokka grabs a fresh pair of underwear and strolls to the bathroom to shower. He snags his toothbrush and sets it on his ledge in the shower. Standing under the warm water begins to wake him up, as he washes his hair and body. He brushes his teeth as he enjoys his final moments under the stream, and then spits out his toothpaste. He quickly washes his face and turns the water off. Sokka shivers from the temperature change and steps out of the shower. He wipes himself dry and pulls his underwear on before swinging the door open and lunging across the hallway to his room.

Sokka opens his closet and tries to decide what he should wear for his pseudo interview at the school. He’s sure he’ll walk away with a job today, but he wants to look good nonetheless. He settles on form-fitting black jeans and a blue button-up he left open to layer with a white v-neck t-shirt. He finishes the outfit with his signature red and blue mismatched converse. He’d gotten a set of red ones and a set of blue ones at a thrift store for 6 bucks a pair. He flashes himself a smile in the mirror and grabs his bag from the side of the bed before leaving the apartment.

On his way to school, Sokka settles on shuffling the album Talon of the Hawk by The Front Bottoms, not feeling awake enough to pick anything specific. 

When Sokka reaches the school, he circles the parking lot for a parking space, luckily snagging one not too far from where he needs to go. He shuts off his car and grabs his bag, and makes his way to calculus. 

Sokka generally likes math, but the class moves at a sluggish rate while he watches the clock. He needs to make sure to run to Student Resources as soon as class ends. As soon as the professor wraps up the class, Sokka is out the door. He fast walks the entire way to Student Resources and when he gets there, the guy from yesterday greets him from the desk.

“Hey! I’m glad you made it,” he says with a smile, “go ahead and sit down.”

Sokka flops into a seat, and debates on pulling out his phone to kill time. He figures it’ll look better if he doesn’t do that. Thankfully, someone comes out to greet him not long after he sits. He walks over to the desk and exchanges a quick word with the receptionist who helped him, before approaching Sokka. He stands up to greet the man.

“Hi Sokka, I’m one of the job advisors here on campus. You can call me Chey,” he says, shaking Sokka’s hand.

“Nice to meet you, sir,” Sokka says politely.  
“My office is this way.”

Sokka follows him to a small office with a desk and two chairs in front of it. He settles into one, and Chey closes the door before sitting down opposite Sokka.

“I’ll take a look at your resume. Do you have a few ideas of where you’d like to work on campus?”

“Yes! I have experience working with food so I was thinking food prep would be a good fit,” Sokka says, trying not to sound too stiff. He hands Chey his resume and the paper with job listings he’d marked on.

“That’s a fine choice, and your resume reflects that. I notice you’ve marked note-taker. Is that another job you’d be interested in?” Chey asks, tapping the paper.

“Yeah, it popped out to me because I never knew that was a thing,” Sokka hopes that was a good way to phrase it.

“Well, I’ll pull up your schedule and see if it’s compatible with the other student. You’re both first years, so there’s a good chance you’ll be a fit,” Chey looks at his computer for a moment, his eyes flicking back and forth. “You share a few classes, and you have otherwise staggering schedules. To be frank, this is a position we’d like to fill as soon as possible. Would you like to do it?” Chey levels his gaze with Sokka’s.

Sokka thinks about it and decides helping someone out seems like a pretty good job.

“Yeah, I think I’d like to do that,”

“Great, I’ll send you the student’s email so you two can connect. I’ll warn you that this job can be a bit overwhelming, and I wouldn’t want you to fall behind on your studies,” Chey says. “Before I forget, do you have any sample notes on you?”

“Right, I think it’ll be okay. I have some in my bag, one sec,” Sokka feels a little nervous to show off his notes, and he flicks through some pages to find his neatest ones. He hands a few to Chey.

Chey briefly scans over the notes before handing them back to Sokka.

“They look good. Now to discuss the pay…”

Sokka walks out of the Student Resource Center with an email, a schedule, and a name. He wonders what kind of person he’ll be taking notes for.


End file.
